The Hothead Is mine
by elauriejadie
Summary: This story was "Hothead, Bipolar, Asshole.. That I love", but it got taken down, so I'm starting from scratch. ••• Sammy is a simple tomboyish girl, With a boyfriend that's not a hothead. Which may be a problem, since she's got this huge softspot for a certain hothead. But can she stay levelheaded during her confusing life of unburied family secrets betrayal and new beginings?
1. Chapter 1

This story was previously "Hothead Bipolar Asshole.. That I love", but it got taken down. So I guess I am starting over.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Twilight Saga or Paul Lahote (sadly)

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The name's Sammy. And when i want to convince people I don't have a "unstable" background, I tell them it's Samantha. Which probably doesn't help anyway.

So here's my story:  
I was born fifteen and a half years ago or something close to that. My parents-if you can even call them that, gave me up at birth. Ever since then, I'd been from foster home to foster home and I owned maybe a suitcase full of clothes and an old mp3 that carried my world-music. About a year ago, I was taken in by the Parkers, who managed to tame me, make me care about them, and found a way to channel my rage. Pretty much by rolling around on a mat and kicking people's asses. And right now, they're going through the adoption process. Which I can't decide if it's a good thing or what. I kinda like going from place to place. I don't think I'll ever have a true family or find my own that'll make me want to stay put. But for right now, I'm stuck in LaPush with a surgeon father a stay at home pregnant mother and nine sweaty, loud brothers.

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I wake up on schedule, the routine four a.m. It's not like I don't want to sleep in... I just _can't_. I've waken up at four a.m for all of my life.

I get in the shower, and wash away the previous nights sweat. I rinse through my hair that's really begging me for a cut, and throw it in a ponytail. It's gotten to that too-long point where it's almost too much to keep under control under head gear. But I think I like it. I'm not sure yet.

When I get out, I pull on a pair of shorts and a sports bra. I leave the house with a sweater on and a pair of shoes in my hands. I check my watch, I have exactly thirty minutes to run to the border of Forks and LaPush twice.

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School  
First hour creative writing. Yeah, don't ask me what I was thinking, I won't be able to tell you. I mean, I'm an alright writer, but her lectures make me want to choke something...

"Lahote, why are you late?" The teacher asks abruptly. And truthfully, that might've been the first thing I heard her say all morning. I sit up straight in my chair with my ears perked up. He doesn't bother to give an answer, just sits down in the desk next to me. I fidget a little bit, and glance at him.

"Well?" She demands.

"Because I was sleeping." He says lazily, slumping down in his desk.

"That's better than being in this class." I say quietly, so no one can hear me. Or so I thought. Paul laughs out loud, and I look up bewildered. He looks at me, grinning, and just stops. Like he completely freezes. His grin disappears, and his almond shaped eyes become clouded. I clear my throat and look away, but I can see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye. And it frustrates me; just like everything eventually does.

"Take a picture it'll last longer." I snarl.

"What?" He asks eventually.

"I know you heard me." I whisper.

"So we're starting over now." He says confidently. "Paul Lahote. And you are?"

"Sammy." I mutter.  
"You got a last name?"  
"Maybe."  
"You wanna tell me what it is?"  
"Not really."  
"Ok..?"

Silence. Except for the teacher. But no one is actually listening to her, so doesn't that count as the same thing?

And apparently I made him mad or something. He crosses his arms and stares angrily at the front of the classroom. I glance at him, and looks right back at me, "Take a picture it'll last longer."

My cheeks flush and I slouch in my chair.

"Wanna tell me now?" He asks, smirking.  
"Parker. Technically."  
"What grade are you in?" He asks slowly.  
"Why?"  
"Because I want to know." He say matter-of-factly.  
"None of your business." I say, and stick my tongue out.  
"Except for the fact that it is.." He says slowly, shrugging.  
"I'm a freshman ok, are you happy now?!"  
"No." He growls, looking uncomfortable.  
I laugh, "I'm sorry my age disappoints you."  
"No it's not that. You don't disappoint me. It's just.. I thought you were older. You look older."  
"Really?" I say scornfully, "Just really? I look older than fifteen to you?"  
He looks at me in a way that makes me completely uncomfortable, and my cheeks turn pink.

"Yeah. You definitely look older than fifteen."

I face forward again, realizing that I had turned and faced him. I pick up my pencil to take notes, trying to focus on anything _but_ Paul Lahote.

I do _not_ look older than fifteen. I look like a twelve year old! Or maybe I only think that because of my lack of height. I'm only 5"0. No centimeters no nothing. Just a straight five feet.

"So what's up with the fiery hair? I know that is not natural." He says eventually, as the teacher sits at her desk. I glance at him, "What?" All of a sudden, his hand is coming towards me, and I jerk out of the way. He slowly withdraws it, "I wasn't going to hurt you." He says quietly. "Well what _were_ you going to do?"

"This." He says grinning, holding up the ponytail holder from out of my hair, which falls in waves around my elbows. "Can I have that back?!" I hiss. He holds up a strand of my hair, quirking an eyebrow

"I died it blonde, then got red, orange, and magenta highlights." I say fussily, reaching for the holder. He holds it out of my reach, "That's pink."

"Nu uh."  
"Yeah huh."  
"No it's not."  
"Yes it is."  
"I would know!"  
"Well you obviously don't!"  
"It's more purple than it is pink."  
"No, but your eyes are." He says quietly, staring again.  
"What is up with you and spacing out?" I say, looking away. "I'm not spacing out." He says defensively. "Oh yeah? Then what would you call it?"

"Trying to figure out the exact color of your eyes. Which is hard, seeing as they change colors a lot." I blush, and touch the corner of my eye, "Yeah I know it's weird, alright?" "No it's not. It's unique. And the shade of blue they turn, that dark royal bluish, it's my new favorite. And then they turn dark purple and then a really stormy gray.. And I'd say it's pretty amazing."

"Leave me alone." I say defensively.

"What? don't know how to take a compliment?" he asks.

"Thank you." I huff, crossing my arms.

"You're not welcome." He says nonchalantly.

"What?! But you just said-" I stop talking when he laughs out loud, and slap his arm. "Whoa! Let's not get touchy, you barely know me!" He says, looking serious. "_What_?! You're the one sitting here and talking like this _isn't_ the first time you've ever noticed me!" "Someone's on edge it's just a joke, jeez." He says, laughing.

I set my jaw and start to work on the homework assignment, when something hits my cheek. I catch the ponytail holder, and glare at him. "What? You said you wanted it back and we're on a no contact basis."

The bell rings, and I stuff the papers in my bag, "We're not on any basis at all!" I walk towards the door, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. "Why those colors?" He asks, hot on my heels. "It's distracting. People never see it coming. Guys I wrestle already expect someone bigger than me coming and the fact that I'm a girl plus this hair, it can help sometimes." "Wait. You wrestle?" He asks. "Yeah." "That is _not_ okay." He says, glaring. "Why not?" "You mean to tell me that a bunch of random guys you don't know are just slamming you onto your back and whatever else you do in that stupid sport?!" He asks wildly. "It's not stupid! And no! I usually win!" I hiss back. "I'm not okay with that." He says.

"Well... Sammy probably _doesn't_ care." We both look towards the door, and see my boyfriend, Blake Hewes. Quarterback on the football team, point guard on the basketball team, so on and so forth. He's tall and muscular, and has long hair. Obviously Paul's taller and way more muscly.. But he's not my boyfriend.. So moving on!

"You have a boyfriend." Paul says lowly, stating the obvious. "Yeah." I say nonchalantly and give Blake a side hug. "How do you not tell someone that you have a boyfriend?" He asks angrily. "You didn't ask." I say defensively. "We're done here." He says, and walks off abruptly.

"Well.. That was weird.

* * *

Sammy's character is a little different. She's more serious now and kinda dislikes LaPush and her new family.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own twilight or the twilight saga, all credit goes to SM

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Paul's POV  
Yeah, I pretty much turn into a giant wolf full of anger and other issues for a living. I mean it has it's benefits. Like the instant six pack, the attraction females have to you and the instant brotherhood doesn't suck. Its also and excuse to have a pretty decent looking tattoo and run around half naked all the time. But my favorite would probably be the female thing. I mean, they're practically all over you. And well.. I was taught to be a gentlemen.. So I don't like to disappoint women. But that doesn't mean I take everything that's thrown at me. I do have a level of self respect, thank you very much. And yeah, all girls are beautiful, but if I don't see it... I don't see it.

But some of us just don't like it. I won't name any names: **Jacob**. **Ephriam. Black.**

But there are downfalls too, like the guys knowing every single thing you've ever thought about, think about, or _think about thinking about_. And then, even worse, there's imprinting. It just doesn't sound appealing to me. I don't do long term relationships. Just ask half of the female seniors at LaPush High. I mean being attached to a woman who rules over your emotions and everything else by a ball and chain.. Yeah not fun.

But that seems to be my problem right now. All it took was one funny remark, and I was a goner. She's beautiful in every-_I hate this_-way. There's nothing wrong with her. Nothing. And if you say there is.. You have major issues and need to crawl in a hole and die. I love her. I know I do. And that's just _not a good sign_. If you find her boyfriend dead in the woods.. It'll probably be my doing. I hate his fucking guts. He doesn't even deserve her. Who even told him he could date her?! That he could look at her?! Touch her?! Kiss her?! Call her his?! Yeah, he is so dead.

I walk through Emily's front door, and sit down at the table, my feet in the chair next to me. "Paul. You should be at school. You really think your mother-" "I imprinted, Sam." I interrupt him. Emily appears suddenly, looking _waaaay_ too overjoyed. Like why am I the only one not excited about this? I already know how the others are going to react. "On who? What's she like? Tell me everything!" She squeals. "It's not like that. I don't like her." I say, frowning. "Paul. Just do it." Sam says, rubbing his brow. "Well.. Fine. She's real small, about to here on me," I say gesturing with my hands, "She has long.. Crazy hair and amazing eyes. They're the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.. And she's funny.. Enough. But she's defensive.. And angry.. And she wrestles. Which I don't like. What if she gets hurt? I mean, what if I kill the person who hurts her? But does she even think about that?! No!"

"Paul. She doesn't know anything yet." Sam says.

"Whatever. And the worst part.. She has a boyfriend."  
"Ouch." Emily says quietly. "Thanks Emily, thank you for that. That was so reassuring. I feel so much better about this situation now. Really. Like so much confidence is surging through my veins right now-" "We get it." Sam interrupts. "You didn't even tell me a name." Emily murmurs. "Sammy. Sammy Parker... Technically."

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Sammy's POV - After school, wrestling practice  
"If you go hard now, you can go home. Come on! Spar with them like they actually made you angry!" Coach yells, pacing the mats. I look my sparring partner, David, in the eye, and try to think of something he's done to make me angry.

My cookie.

He stole my cookie at lunch!

I start towards him cautiously, and he stares back at me tiredly. Red Alert practices are the hardest and we had one today. I charge at him, and attach myself to his midsection, turn, and slam him on his back.  
"I'll buy you a cookie tomorrow. Happy?" He asks, frowning. "Haha, David. I'm never happy."

**But I bet someone could change that**!

_Please shut up, insane inner thoughts._

**Telling me to shut up is like telling you to shut up and you never listen to yourself!**

_Cuz that soooo made so much sense. Dumbass_.

**You said it.**

"Alright, go hit the showers." Coach says, leaving the room. Everyone heads towards the locker rooms, and I break off to go to the girls locker room. It can get lonely, being the only girl on the team, especially since some of them think that I'd be better off as a cheerleader. Which I wouldn't. You can't hurt people in Cheerleading. And wrestlers get nicer shoes. Duh.

When I'm done with the shower, I change and head to the parking lot, my hair tangled, but down anyway. Savannah "my mom" is waiting for me in her car. I get in, slamming the door after me, and she jumps. "Sammy, you surprised me, how was your day?" "Good." I say, fully absorbed in looking for my bag of beef jerky that's hidden in my duffle bag. "And practice?" I smile around a piece that I shoved in my mouth. "Amathing." She laughs, and turns a corner. "And how's about that boy?" She asks playfully.

_Is she talking about Lahote?_

**Now who's the dumbass?! She's talking about Blake! I get that you haven't thought about anything but Paul since first hour and how he looked at you, but come on!**

I swallow, "He's good." She glances at me, "That's not the usual response. Are you guys fighting or something?" "Nah. We just didn't talk much today." She glances at my hair, and I shove more beef jerky into my mouth. "I brought your hairbrush." I laugh, "Thanks."

She hands over the brush, and I sit the bag down, and brush through my tangled hair. Eventually, it looks orderly again, and by the time that time comes, we're at home.

We go in the house, and all the lights are off and I sigh. "What happened? Did Hayden break the whole house or something?" She laughs, "No but I do have a surprise for you." She flips on the light, and standing in the middle of the room, is Malik. My best friend... Well ever!

I run at him, and tackle him, and to my surprise, he stays on his feet. "AHHH! Malik! I could kill you! Where did you go?!" I yell in his ear. He laughs, "I'll tell you about it later. Why do you stink?" I pull back and look at him, "I don't I took a shower after practice.." "You need another one." He says, laughing loudly.

Malik and I have known each other since I was in eighth grade. He was actually the first person I met. It was his senior year in high school, but we were bet friends soon anyway. I never like-liked him, it was kinda like we had this bond. Like.. I don't know? A real family? And bringing him to my school dances was kinda like bringing a cousin. Anyway, we're super close, but he disappeared this year, right before school started. But he's back now, so it's all good.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
Later  
"So I went to find my parents, 'cuz I was sick of not knowing." Malik says, sitting down at my desk. "Did you find them?" I ask. "Yeah. And I can't decide if it was worth it. My father's pretty lousy, and my mothers dead." I gasp, "I'm sorry." "For what? I never knew her anyway. Here's a piece of advice, Sammy my boy," He says, then smirks, "_Never_ go looking for your father." I give him a puzzled look. Why just not my father? What about my mother? Maybe he only said that because he had a bad experience with his real father or something.

"DINNER!"

Oh well, I'll find out _after_ my stomach is full.


End file.
